


A Man with a Plan

by DaltonG



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: AU, Cabin Pressure Secret Santa Exchange 2017, M/M, Skipthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaltonG/pseuds/DaltonG
Summary: Martin met Arthur before he passed his CAA exam. (Note: the rating is SURE to go up.)Thanks tospudqueenfor the super-fast beta! (All remaining mistakes are of course my own)





	A Man with a Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myx/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Myx! Chapter 1 of your story, more to come!

'Hello, I’m Martin, I’m your man with a--'

'Brilliant! You’re here! Come in!'

Martin was a bit taken aback to have his spiel interrupted. A young man wearing jeans and a wildly multicoloured shirt had opened the door. On closer inspection, he could see the shirt was covered in tiny dinosaurs.

The man grabbed his wrist and dragged him inside.

'This is so great! This is my friend, Belva--well, she’s back there, anyway--and she’s moving to a _much_ better place and it’s so fantastic that you’re here! This is so exciting!'

Martin looked around. He could see into the kitchen of the little flat, and it looked neatly packed into boxes. A dark hallway presumably led to the rest of the place.

'I like to start with the bedroom, generally, and finish with the kitchen, so delicate things won’t get crushed.'

'Brilliant! Come on, meet Belva first.' 

He was tugged down the hall, which led into a tiny sitting room with a tiny elderly woman tucked into a tiny rocking chair. Really, he had no idea they made rocking chairs that small.

'Hello!' she said cheerfully, and waved.

The young man went over and crushed her in a hug. She giggled.

'Belva, this is Martin! He’s our Man with a Van!'

'So nice to meet you, Martin.' She held out a small hand, and he took it gently.

'So, where’s the bedroom--'

'Arthur, did you introduce yourself?'

'Oh, silly me! I’m Arthur! I’m Belva’s friend! Hallo!'

Martin found himself the recipient of a similarly crushing hug. He kept his arms to his sides. He hadn’t been hugged since last Christmas...if you called what Simon did a “hug”. 

This didn’t feel anything like Simon’s claustrophobic grabs. This felt warm and solid. Arthur smelled like gingerbread and apple shampoo. Martin wanted to stretch up and sniff his neck. Instead he stood still, feeling awkward.

The young man called Arthur stepped back.

'Oh, I’m sorry, I should have asked first. Perhaps you didn’t want a hug. Well, anyway, here’s the bedroom.' He disappeared through a door to the side.

'Excuse me,' Martin said to the old woman, and followed Arthur.

He found a small room containing more neatly taped boxes, a stripped bed, and an end table. Arthur had 3 boxes in his arms and was peering around them.

'Let’s start!' he said cheerily.

'Oh no, Arthur, you don’t need to do anything. That’s for me to do.' Martin tried to take the top box from Arthur. Arthur neatly dodged around him and went out the door.

'Faster if we do it together!' he called back.

And indeed, it was. Having Arthur carry half the bed made that task amazingly simpler. Martin had gotten quite good at maneuvering a bed around corners by himself without banging into things, but he was grateful to have the help. In less than 30 minutes, everything was safely packed into the van except Belva and her chair.

'Are you ready?' Arthur asked her quietly.

'Yes...it’s time.' She looked around once, sighed, and took Arthur’s hand as he helped her up. 'It’s going to be so much nicer there…'

'Yes! It will! All those lovely friends, and not having to cook...and dominoes! There were those blokes who have a dominoes game going all the time. If you can’t sleep at night, you can go play dominoes!'

Belva smiled bravely and held onto Arthur’s arm.

'Will you be okay riding in the cab of the van?' Martin was suddenly worried.

'Oh yes, dear. I’ve ridden in the back of horse carts, on motorbikes...even jumped out of a plane once. A nice comfy cab will be just fine.'

* * *

Martin looked around the small room in the retirement home. There were boxes everywhere. He and Arthur had set up the bed and found linens (in a box marked "Sleepy Stuff'), and the rocking chair was settled next to a window that looked out on a small pond. But...there were boxes everywhere.

'Will you be okay?' Martin asked. 'Only there isn’t much room to move around…'

'I’ll be fine, dear. My daughter is coming in an hour to unpack. Now, let me get your payment.' She rummaged in a huge pink pocketbook.

Martin felt strange, taking money from a pensioner, but he’d had pot noodles for dinner for a week and really had no choice.

'Here you go. Thank you so much for helping me!'

He couldn’t help it; he counted out the money.

'Oh, you’ve given me too much. Here.' He handed back 40 pounds. It was twice the cost of the move.

'Oh no, dear. You’ve been wonderful. You earned it.'

'Absolutely not. Arthur did half the work.'

There was a bit of a tussle, but Martin won by sticking the notes on the small kitchenette counter.

'Arthur?' She turned to him for help.

'If you won’t take a tip, Martin, how about you let me take you out for ice cream?'

Martin stared at Arthur. Ice cream?

'You do it, or I’ll have the council on you,' Belva threatened. He wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t--though what the council would _do_ , he couldn’t imagine, but he couldn’t lose his moving business.

'Ice cream...I guess that’s okay…'

'Brilliant! Belva, I’ll see you tomorrow.' Arthur leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

'Nonsense. Don’t you come until next week, like usual. I have too much to do here!'

Arthur grinned and gave her another huge hug.

* * *

Martin took a small bite of his vanilla ice cream, wanting it to last. He hadn’t had a treat like this in...well, he couldn’t remember when.

They were sat at a twee metal table with a lace-like top, on small metal chairs. The shop was loud with children shouting their orders at the harried ice cream scooper. 

'How long have you been a Man with a Van, Martin?' Arthur had to raise his voice into almost a shout to be heard. He was licking a tower of three different flavours perched perilously on a cone. Martin tried not to look at his tongue. He really had been alone too long, if a simple lick of ice cream made him think of sex.

'I’m not actually a Man with a Van.'

Arthur looked confused.

'I’m sorry! I thought...well, you’re a man, and you have a van...I guess I jumped to conclusions!'

'Oh, yes, I am a Man with a Van, but that’s not what I _am_. You see, I’m actually a pilot.'

'An aeroplane pilot?' Arthur’s voice raised into a bit of an excited squeal, and one of the children looked around to see what was going on.

'Yes. Well, not precisely. I still have to pass my CAA exam. But I _will_. And then I will be a pilot.'

'Oh, that’s brilliant!'

'Is it?'

'Yes! My mum owns an airline! You could fly for us!'

Martin rather doubted that this gentle, eager soul was doing anything but trying to cheer him up.

'Does she now.'

'Yes! It’s MJN Air! It stands for "My Jet Now". Because she won it off my dad. Well, sort of. Anyway, I’m sure she could use another pilot! We’ve only got the two.'

This sounded a little more real, with the details added.

'But I haven’t passed my exams yet.'

'Oh, but you will! I’m sure of it! And then you could come work for us, and I could see you every day!'

Why would this stranger want to see him every day? It wasn’t very believable...but then, sitting in an ice cream parlour talking to this odd, enthusiastic young man wasn’t exactly how he imagined his day going. Perhaps he had stepped into an alternate dimension, and luck wasn’t entirely against him.

'Well...if I ever do pass-- _when_ I pass--I’ll be sure to look you up.'

'Oh, no, don’t do that! I mean, don’t wait for that! Let me help you! I can help you revise, I’m quite good at that. I’ve done a lot of revision. A lot. I know all about it.'

'You’re lovely to offer…'

'No, I’m not being lovely! I really want to help, Martin. You’re brilliant and I just know you need to come work with us. I’m the steward, by the way. I help people on the plane. And I can help you, too! You’re just _perfect_ for our plane!'

Martin found himself smiling shyly. Maybe he had found himself a friend.


End file.
